A Murder of Crows
by bluegreenfish
Summary: Some wizards are born different. Some to prophecy, others to fate. Our protagonist is neither, a character who is content to spectate and intervene at the last possible minute. Mr. Everell has no love for the Dark side nor the Light. Content to remain perfectly balanced, Everell finds his already confusing world changed as the events of the Harry Potter series twist and shape it.
1. Prologue

Prologue:

It was a fairly normal day in Central London. The traffic went by, thin roads clogged with parked cars and the congestion charge loomed over the heads of the drivers. Pedestrians and commuters all moving about in their daily lives, grey hoodies mixed with suits. The occasional camera flash revealed a gaggle of tourists, casually pursuing the sights with single-minded determination.

In a particular apartment overlooking Regents Canal, a boy turned lazily in his bed. Sunlight filtered through the shutters illuminating the room in white light slits. Sleep filled eyes slowly opened, taking in the outside world through the narrow slots. The blur of the room quickly sharpened and he sat up slowly, turning to notice his room. A couple of rubs in the eye to dislodge any sand and with a cry, the boy jumped out of bed and leapt towards the bathroom.

How could he have forgotten? Today was his brother's birthday, this evening was going to be something special and he had it all planned out. He finished brushing his teeth and quietly tiptoed out of his room and glanced into his brother's room. There he was, soundly asleep. With a sigh of relief he turned to enter the kitchen.

There on the table was a post-it note, a brief note from their mother scrawled on it informing them that she had gone to get shopping. He sighed with summer contentedness, went up to the fridge and plucked out a packet of tomatoes. He put them in a bowl, gave them a quick wash and settled down in a chair to eat. As he enjoyed the juicy flavour of the red fruit, he began to think of what to do for that evening.

It needed to be a special event, but a complete surprise to the rest of the family. He decided he'd look at getting something magical. The type of thing that would make them ponder how he did it. He liked it when they got stumped; it made the trick all the more satisfying.

That evening he sat back and looked at his work with relish. It was a watch that had been charmed to go underwater to a depth of three hundred meters and could tell the lunar cycle as well as the current time and date. It had taken him a while to combine different watch faces but mum's old charms book had come in handy, but he'd done it in the end. They were going to be so surprised that they would stop being so still and quiet. He'd tried everything to get them up and his brother too but they seemed too sleepy, like they were holding their breaths every time he checked their pulses. This time the game was up, they'd had their fun for the last week and now it was payback time. He was going to make them wake up.

He walked into his parent's room and noticed a shallow bowl to the side. He'd never really noticed it before. It was filled with this silvery like liquid and there was stuff moving inside it. He reached out to touch it and suddenly fell right in.

XXXXXXX

It was not till two hours later that the boy pulled out of the bowl, tears streaming down his face. He turned to his parents, realizing for the first time that their corpses lay there in the bed and he promptly vomited on the floor. Retching and coughing he ran from the room and into his. Locking the door, he curled up on his bed and tried to come to terms with the fact that his parents and brother had been dead for a week and he hadn't even noticed.

Early in the morning the next day, he woke up. Tentatively he peeked into his parent's room to see them lying there exactly the same as yesterday, and all those other days before. He wailed at the re-realization of what had exactly happened. A smell permeated the room as the sick from yesterday lay on the floor. Before he could mourn further, something unanswered from the back of his mind nudged itself forward.

How was it that their bodies hadn't decomposed? Why did he not notice at all? He reached for the covers and threw them back… only to promptly vomit again. The bodies lay there on the bed in various states of decay. Scars and bruises littered the skin and there was a large cavity in both chests as if someone had blown through both torsos. Maggots had begun to worm their way in and around the bones and for the first time in a week, the smell of them hit the boy full in the face. It was putrid, a smell most foul.

Quickly the boy brought a hand to his nose and pelted out of the room. He suddenly needed to see how his baby brother had lasted. There was a small chance, a small hope that he was alive. He rushed into his brother's room and snatched the covers away. Horror was here too, the body of his brother had been desecrated and there were more fluids along his body than flesh. What was left just seemed to be a mocking reminder of how blind he had been. Just like what had happened in the other room, this one began to stink of a rotting corpse.

He then heard a tap and walked to his room, seeing that on his windowsill was a letter. He cautiously opened it, upon reading it, he closed his eyes and a single tear fell down his cheek. Opening them once more, he steeled himself began to pack his bags and got changed into his worst, secondhand clothes. He picked up a vial and collected the fluid from that strange bowl yesterday, took his father's wand from the secret drawer in their room and the few family possessions that he could actually carry. Everything packed away in a backpack; the boy opened the door and making sure to take the key, left the apartment. He made sure to leave the door slightly ajar. Hopefully the neighbours will notice.

As he pulled the hood over his face whilst leaving the complex, the boy announced,

"I want to disappear."

Then he vanished, just like that.

XXXXXXX

Ten months later, in an empty apartment with the bare foundations showing, an owl tapped its beak on the window. It opened and the same boy collected the letter from it, making sure to feed it some spare bacon and its due fare. He gave the barest of grins as he read out:

_Dear Mr. Everell,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipement._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

The grin turned slightly feral as Tyr Everell thought to himself, 'this time, I'll be ready.'


	2. Chapter 1

**Walking Down Memory Corridor**

Tyr Everell was a troubled boy. In retrospect that was an understatement. Waking up to find the corpses of your parents and brother charmed to start decomposing once you removed the covers was devastating enough, but to receive a letter from the murderer(s) immediately after by owl was rubbing salt on the wound.

Ten months later Tyr was living in a bare flat in the middle of Paris. He'd found a place that was safe, no magic could get in nor be detected and best of all non-magical objects could function perfectly normally here. So only two days after receiving his Hogwarts letter and posting a letter of acceptance, forged to mimic his dad's hand just in case, he could be seen dancing in the living room to as the radio announced _Just Like Heaven by The Cure_,

'Oh my giddy aunt, he thought in a moment of euphoria, music truly is one of the deepest representations of the soul.'

He was going to Hogwarts, where his father attended. Then the statement truly sank in and the music sank into the background as Tyr realised with numbness: his parents' murderers had been wizards. He was going to be entering the proverbial lion's den. He was in Paris but he wasn't registered as a French citizen and without a visa it was inappropriate to stay any longer than necessary. The French Ministry would have a fit if they realised that a British eleven year old was living all by himself without a visa in their capital.

He'd charmed the flat to be completely undetectable but the spells were really weak. He was only eleven after all; it had near exhausted him completely when he had cast a powerful Notice-Me-Not charm on the front door. Back in the present, Tyr realised he had nearly emptied his kitchen. All that was left was a can of beans and a few slices of bread.

He sighed. It was a risk to leave the apartment but he would starve if he left it any later. He got his hoodie ready and pocketed his apartment keys before checking all his windows to see if they were shut and locked properly. Then he left the apartment, locking the door silently and walking over to a window that overlooked the Siene. It was a bit quiet now since it was just after lunch so Tyr slipped out and went down the first street on the right, the Esplanade des Invalides on his left side. He was making good time before his stomach rumbled. He was suddenly hit by an overwhelming pang of hunger. He knew at the rate his stomach was demanding food he wouldn't make it.

Worry overtaking common sense, he slipped down an alleyway and pulled up his hood, whilst muttering,

"I would like to be a spectator."

Then the world changed.

XXXXXX

Tyr had discovered the hoodie when he was seven. He gone out to a market near Angel station with his parents and saw it: a pale grey hoodie with short sleeves only reaching to the elbows and drawstrings on the sleeves. The hood when worn had a tip that peaked out and the opening shadowed the eyes but didn't obscure the vision. It had a darkened cut of grey on the sleeves and on the left shoulder was a symbol of two circle halves overlapped. One half was white, the other black and a centre of grey formed in the middle.

He had quickly rushed to his parents, determined to convince them to buy it before it disappeared. It was more than a quick impulse, the hoodie was just there in broad daylight and yet everyone in the market was passing it by without a second glance. It was just like magic.

Incidentally, both his parents had not known if either of their two boys was magical. So far neither had shown any accidental magic, though the house was warded very carefully to reduce their own magical signature. There was a chance that the wards were neutralizing the accidental magic. With that in mind, they still held out the hope that their children were magical, not that they wouldn't love them anymore if they weren't.

So they were quite surprised when Tyr rushed towards them, babbling on about a pale grey hoodie with two half circles crossed and dragged them towards a stall that they could tell was run by a wizard. The hoodie was most certainly magical for when they looked, there was magic in the cloth that stood out and almost gave it a glow. Well, that and the fact that most Muggle customers were simply ignoring the item, switching between the garments on either side. They asked Tyr if the hoodie he was talking about was the one right in front of them and when he shouted yes, they felt a moment's relief. Tyr was magical; he could see the garment. The wards were definitely interfering with their children's' accidental magic.

The wizard manning the stall was beginning to stir. He had fallen asleep a while ago, certain that no Muggle would want anything he sold and had almost given up on the idea of a magical family or couple stopping by. The wizard, by name of Randolf, was wearing a traditional wizard hat in brown and had all sorts of knick-knacks hidden away under his large overcoat. His beard was trimmed in a rectangular shape and his eyes were sharp and dark. Randolf stirred and saw a small child hopping in front of the grey hood with jubilation as his parents looked on in masked amusement. He realised that the kid wanted to buy it, and straightened up slowly, hand reaching to grasp his old walking stick behind the coat rack.

Then he coughed to get their attention before enquiring,

"My, my, your son really does want the hood. I'm afraid though that that particular hood is not for sale. It should be sold to someone with who is responsible and will not tear around using it like a new toy."

He ended it all with a fierce glare at the parents. If they were a non-magical family then they would think he was crazy and walk away muttering. If they were magical then they would probably say something, oh I don't know, something … magical.

Tyr felt a little afraid when the old man with the pointy hat and big coat said the hoodie wasn't for sale. He really wanted it, but also started to think about what would happen to it if he did own it. Would he eventually outgrow it? Would he one day grow bored of it and throw it away or give it to charity? He didn't think so now but in the future Tyr wasn't so sure. Still though, he reflected, if he thought about the what ifs of the future before he considered every decision, he'd be here forever and ever. He promised to himself that he wouldn't throw it away unless he outgrew it and would always take good care of it.

Having come to a decision, he went to the man with resolve only to see him in a hushed argument with his parents. He went over to the man and tugged on the sleeve. Randolf looked down to see the boy staring up at him with resolute eyes. The kid's parents were indeed magical which he never would have guessed judging from the clothes, why they almost looked like Muggles! They had asked him what was so special about the hood and he had in turn shown them the grimoire that came with it. The book explained that the hood was a modified version of cloaks that witches and wizards wore to escape persecution during the witch-hunts. It listed how to make a cloak of similar design and how to give it commands to perform different skills. In other words it was very valuable to any wizard who wanted to hide.

This particular hood had been modernized and a particular feature had been added: the garment would hide the wearer from wizards as well as Muggles. It was a perfect travel companion from one who wanted to remain hidden. This little boy was unsuitable for this kind of artifact. Randolf, now looking down at Tyr asked in a gruff voice,

"What do you want boy? I ain't selling this cloak to you, its highly unsuitable and inappropriate for you."

Tyr took a deep breath and replied,

"I won't throw it away, I won't get tired of it. I'll take good care of it and make sure it doesn't get damaged, and if it does get damaged or worn I'll make sure to repair it. If I don't have the money to make the repair then I'll use my savings, but I swear I'll take care of it. I swear by my…by my… by my eyes!"

"By your eyes?" enquired Randolf dryly, one eyebrow raised at the boy's promise.

"Yes! By my eyes, so if I break my promise, I'll go blind! I really promise that I'll take care of it!"

At this declaration, Tyr's parents looked shocked. They knew that he wanted the hood but the way he promised almost sounded like an- Oh god!

It was unfortunately in this way that Tyr's magic truly manifested itself. Tyr had unwittingly sworn to hold onto the cloak forever, lest he lose his eyesight and go blind forever. Randolf looked shocked at the formation of this pact and realised that if he didn't sell the cloak to Tyr right now, Randolf himself would be responsible for ridding the boy of his eyesight. He realised that there was really no other choice. He looked at the kid and said,

"Alright, I will sell you the book and the hood. They're a package deal, don't think that this is an ordinary piece of clothing, I expect your parents will explain that soon enough."

At this he gave a meaningful glance towards them and they realised that Tyr still believed that there was no such thing as magic. It had been safer to raise them as non-magical so that they got a firm grounding of how to blend in just in case they didn't have any magic. If they did, as Tyr had clearly seemed to, then they would have a strong understanding of the Muggle world. They were going to have to tell him about magic… meanwhile Randolf continued on,

"That isn't all though. You will come back here to meet me with one of your parents for lessons on how to use the damn thing. I ain't giving it to some boy who has to figure out the hard way how to use it. It isn't a toy, it's a tool and a damn good one at that."

Tyr seemed confused. A tool? How to use it? Did the man think he was an idiot; he didn't need lesson on how to wear a hoodie! He was seven for crying out loud. He was about to tell the man so when he looked at his parents' face and saw that they were taking the seller seriously. Tyr realised there was more to this exchange than met the eye and wondered what this talk was all about. What was so important that this man and his parents knew about but they didn't? Something was strange about all of this. He wisely kept his mouth shut and listened to what the man was saying.

Randolf finished off with,

"Meet me here at this stall every Friday and Sunday at seven a.m. Its better to get a full day of practice in and that means starting early. Are we agreed?"

Tyr nodded and stuck out his hand.

"My name is Tyr. Tyr Everell."

The man reached to grasp it firmly and replied,

"I'm Randolf. My last name is quite unnecessary."

When they got back home, Tyr wasn't allowed to touch it until after they had their little talk. It wasn't so little at all, Tyr was astounded that he was magical. He found out that his dad was a wizard and his mum was non-magical, otherwise known as a Muggle. His parents didn't like to use the word Muggle as it could be taken to sound offensive. They reasoned that the only real difference between the two was that one had magic and the other didn't. That was all there was to it. Dad talked about his school: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the houses and the point system, the Quidditch cup (prompting further questioning) and the House Cup. He learnt that his Dad had been a Hufflepuff and he had met Mum at a concert for The Cure and had gone out together since.

Tyr learnt that the hoodie was magical, that Randolf was a wizard who would teach him how to use it, that his little brother Cor might also have magic and that if Cor didn't have magic, then Tyr should treat him fairly all the same. Tyr promised at once, he cared about his little brother too much.

It was only until much later that his parents would talk about the fight between Dark and Light, the distinction between the two and the recent war fought in the Wizarding World. Their deaths left a few questions unanswered however, what side had they been on? Were they Dark or Light and most importantly of all, why were they hiding out here in a flat in London, away from the rest of the Wizarding World?

XXXXXX

"_I want to be a spectator."_

Randolf had not known much about this particular command. He knew it made the user undetectable, but he didn't know what happened next. There were vague references to reflections and water, and an allusion to increasing the speed of the wearer but nothing else. Most of the book had been like that but there usually was a large amount of fragments. It made it easier to transcribe. The entry for this one was short and vague.

Tyr found himself in a dingy corridor. The street parallel to the Esplanade des Invalides was gone. Grunge clung to the edges where the walls met the floor. A couple of cockroaches crawled lazily about near a few puddles of black liquid, which poured out from a pipe in the wall on the right. There was no acute smell, just a general odour of filth.

On each wall, nestled like teeth in a crocodile's mouth, were doors. Some were white and pristine, the smell of wet paint as if they were newly furnished; the workman had just finished and had left it to dry. Others were elaborate, ornate doors with a deep varnish. Of these there were few, occasionally termite holes were visible around the deep-set hinges and the grunge clung to the frames like claws.

Then there were arches, stone or marble and statues adorning the sides, crumbling and eroding in the face of time. Some had doors built into the arches which creaked on rusted iron hinges, the bolts worn to illegible shapes. Tyr looked through one of the open arches. The space was shadowy and in the distance he could faintly make out a streetlamp. He heard murmurs and fragments of conversation, the language sounded German. He needed to find a way to navigate the passage safely. Turning around, he noticed that the door he came from had a plaque above the frame labeled,

_Safe Haven from All_

He turned to inspect the nearest doors, looking for a similar label or marker. He gave a start and was horrified to see a door with two pipes sidelong to it, black filth and sludge pouring out from was simply labeled,

_Home_

Home. Home could mean anything or anywhere for a traveller like him. He'd like to think that, but ultimately he knew that home was the apartment where his parents and brother still rotted. Where his family's killers sent their regards and his happiest memories remained etched within the walls. Tyr backed away slowly and turned to see another door. It was well used and had scuffmarks by the bottom of the door. Obviously it was well used. He half gazed to the marker, only to grin slightly in triumph. The marker read,

_Rue Cler Market_

Opening the door with half-hearted cheer, Tyr looked back to the two doors: one of his home, the catalyst for his life's most recent changes, and the second door for his new life, a hideaway from the rest of the world. Looking forwards again, Tyr pushed onwards.

He found himself in the marketplace, but everything was different. The sky was faded out to a pale white, the ground was beige cobblestone and the market was alive with shades and ghosts. Their bodies were semi-corporeal and their words faint, triple-tongued. Tyr realised he wasn't out of this yet; the command was still in effect. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some notes. He counted up quickly how much everything was and placed his groceries in a bag, making sure to pay for it when the seller wasn't looking. All his purchases made, he walked over to a beggar girl selling flowers in a nearby street. Taking pity on her, he pulled an apple out and dropped it into her bag with a label saying,

'Don't open it here, but there is an apple in your bag. God bless you."

He then dropped behind an alleyway and whispered,

"_Please let me participate."_

The world became normal and he came out from behind the alley and went back towards the beggar girl. She looked miserable but looked pretty in her yellow dress. He crouched down so he was sitting on his ankles and pulled out ten euros. He pulled out a tulip and a rose and gave her the money. She looked at him in wonderment. He then grinned at her and she gave a smile back. He then asked her in English,

"Do you want to get something to eat?"

She nodded and as she went to gather her flowers, he helped her up and to carry them. They walked in silence through the streets and then they saw a café on the corner. There was a man about to close it when the girl called out,

"Papa!"

He looked up and saw her then grinned and ran towards her, catching her in a bear hug. They engaged in a fluid verse of French before she turned and gestured for Tyr to come over. Her father gave him a stern once over and looked ready to kick him out when his daughter gave a rapid tirade, which seemed to calm him down. She had such a triumphant look on her face that Tyr nearly laughed.

They went inside. Tyr was surprised to find out that they both were fluent in English and they weren't bothered that Tyr knew less than the bare minimum, though it made them wonder how he had managed to not learn any if he lived here. The girl's name was Sofia and her father's name was Francois. He used to be a printmaker but when the factory closed all he had left was his little workshop. It wasn't enough to make a business on so he converted the downstairs into a café to make a living. His wife had died recently, leaving the two with bad debts so Sofia pretended to be a lowly beggar-girl selling flowers to get some extra cash on the side. She grew the flowers on her windowsill and potted them in old tin buckets in Francois's garage.

When asked about what his parents did, Tyr was unsure of what to say. If he lied and said he had parents, they might ask to meet them and continual lying would lead him to earning their mistrust if they ever found out. If he told the truth, they may call child services. He decided that as long as he had the hood he was fine, so he opted for the truth.

"I live on my own right now, my parents and brother were killed back home and I have no other relatives. There was no orphanage since no one found out so I ran and ended up in Paris. There's a flat that no one seems to notice and I stay there for now."

Sofia looked shocked. He was clean and civil and kind, yet he had no parents. They had been killed! Of all the things to witness, that had to be the most terrifying. If he was living on his own then it was dangerous and not safe for him at all. Francois was unsure. The boy seemed nice and honest, but there were parts that were lacking. He obviously came from England, how did he cross the border into Paris. If it was murder, then the police would be involved and it would have been in the paper somewhere. If it had indeed been swept under the rug, there were no free apartments in Paris.

He decided to ask the boy,

"If you were found out, what then? Would you go to an orphanage or keep running? You realise that they would eventually find you, and then you would be questioned. If you were there then they would want you to speak out. Running away from a scene of the crime would make your actions questionable and your motives unclear. You may even be considered a suspect."

Sofia gasped,

"Don't say things like that Papa!"

Tyr replied, in answer of Francois's question,

"I would keep running. I can make it so that they will never find me. Besides, the police wouldn't know. I severely doubt it."

Something in those words sounded odd. How could the police not know, wondered Francois. Enough mysteries he decided, I'll make him a deal.

"Alright boy, here's the deal. You stay here and earn your keep but in exchange, you tell us the real story and how you really got to Paris. Otherwise you're on your own."

There was no real choice for Tyr, this was a safety line cast out, he just needed to trust in them. Besides a little demonstration with the hoodie should confirm things. So he explained about waking up, about the bodies, the message, the packing and moving and finally about the acceptance letter from Hogwarts. Francois looked angry with him by this point,

"I said the real story! Not this magic rubbish! Get out!"

So Tyr pulled the hood over his head and as the tears ran down his face in memory of the horror he remembered, Tyr whispered,

"_I want to disappear."_

He vanished completely.

There was silence for a long pause and then,

"Shit! He was actually telling the truth!"

XXXXXX

A week later found Tyr working in the café, washing the dishes and earning his keep. He felt happy for the first time in ten months, content with the friends he found in Sofia and Francois.

XXXXXXX

Next Chapter Excerpt:

_Tyr had a feeling that this was one of those moments where he would be making a big decision on how his life in the Wizarding world would go. On one hand, he could refuse the offer and stick to his principles, going solo. In the short run it would make him feel fairly noble, but would leave him with a potential enemy. On the other hand, he would have a useful contact, a potential ally and possibly a source of information._

_He took the hand of the man and shook it firmly. He then said,_

"_I look forward to potential outcome of this alliance, Mr. Malfoy."_


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The 10th of August loomed on the horizon, the date when Tyr would travel across the channel and enter Diagon Alley. Dad had mentioned that you had to get there through a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. It was around the back and involved tapping bricks. It sounded confusing, but from what Tyr had gathered reading his dad's books, magic was complicated and didn't seem to make much sense. Finding the Leaky Cauldron in the middle of London was a tough enough job, but Tyr had a more pressing issue: crossing the channel and getting into England.

He'd managed to get to Paris using the "_disappear command_" only because he was distraught and had a vague idea of what a safe place looked like. It didn't actually teleport someone, just allowed them to become invisible and intangible. Hence the move to Paris, it was close enough to England to not be that far away and he ended up in an apartment, the living quarters he was used to. He'd been to Paris before where he had promptly fallen in love with the place, which was probably why it was Paris and not Scotland or Ireland.

This time though, he'd be going back to London, a place that now held bad memories and potentially his parents and brother's killers. It was not a safe place for him and as such, using the command would not get him there. If he went through the corridor, he wasn't sure if it was safe to go that way. The corridor itself was filthy and gave off a feeling of abandonment. No, the corridor was his last resort. He had two weeks left until term started and time was of the essence. He knew absolutely nothing about how to get to Hogwarts or what money they used, (he doubted they used bank notes, not very magical), so this trip was going to be his most important one yet.

He'd talked to Francois, who was surprisingly accommodating about this whole trip. One he'd disappeared, the café owner was surprised and had taken a few hours to calm Tyr down. After that and hearing about Tyr's need to get to London, he reckoned he had a way to get there. It just required skill and sneakiness, but he reckoned Tyr could do it.

Initially it seemed that the most obvious thing to do was for Tyr to disappear on a train or car and then wait until they reached England, then use the corridor or another type of transport to get to London. It sounded like a good idea so they tested it in Francois's old Toyota. That's when they realised something: when Tyr disappeared he not only became invisible but also intangible, and it was not interchangeable. As a result, when the car took off, the car passed through Tyr like a ghost and left him in the middle of the road. It was too risky to have him board a train, the conductor would notice him if he didn't disappear and even if he did escape, the chances were that he would be sought after and potentially catch the gaze of the British Ministry.

However, after a few nights of careful thinking and planning, Francois discovered another way to get Tyr to England and once Tyr was safely in the country, he could contact some friends to give the boy a lift to his destination. There was a ferry that crossed the Channel from Calais to Dover. From there he had a contact that could take Tyr to Central London. All Tyr had to do was to disappear onto the ferry, then become visible and hideaway on it until they reached Dover and boarded. He could then disappear and disembark. From there they would have to have a code word or a phrase upon which, Tyr could reappear and get driven to London.

Once he had explained this all to Tyr, the boy had promptly hugged him and finished cleaning every dish, plate and piece of cutlery in record time. Whilst Francois had been planning this trip, Tyr had been learning new trick about the hoodie. Whilst it seemed to only take the wearer anywhere within restrictions, Tyr discovered something a bit more useful: he could now add locations to the doors in the corridor. He'd tried it out and connected the guest bedroom door, where he now stayed with Sofia and Francois, to the corridor. Now he only needed to go through a few doors and move things in-between his the bedroom and his apartment.

Secretly, Tyr had been wondering if he could acquire a property in London, maybe even a magical one. If so then he could connect that place to the Corridor and not need to go through the hassle of taking a ferry across the Channel. It was a risk though, especially if the wrong people heard about it. Regardless, Tyr knew he had to make a move soon.

XXXXXXX

The sky was overcast today. It made it quite a miserable day, almost justifying why so many people were queuing to get back home. Almost. Tyr wore a dark raincoat over his hoodie, big enough to go down to his knees. The sleeves were too wide, making him look much smaller. He wore a pair of straight trousers, nondescript, and a pair of brown boots. Saying goodbye was tough, he had grown to care about the pair and was sad to see them go. Still, he had made Sofia blush quite badly when he gave her a kiss on the cheek. Francois knew he didn't mean anything by it, but her cry of surprise followed by a dire threat had been worth it.

Tyr slowly went to the side and disappeared. He shot through the people, quite literally, and apart from the odd feeling of tasting intestines; Tyr found it easy to navigate to a toilet. From there he waited until there were a few families on board before appearing and leaving the toilet. He set himself down on a cushioned seat overlooking the sea. He took down his hood and saw a boy opposite him with a petulant expression on his face. He had a very pale complexion and almost platinum blonde hair. He sneered at Tyr before gazing at the sea with the mission to completely ignore him. Tyr shrugged; he didn't mind the boy, who seemed to be a brat anyway.

Things were going well until Tyr took off his coat. The raincoat was making him hot and uncomfortable. As he took it off, the other boy's parents arrived, both with the same pale skin and almost aristocratic air. The boy's father glanced at him and then stared with an almost predatory expression when he noticed the hoodie. Tyr gave a mask of indifference but inside he instantly was on guard. He hadn't progressed far enough to non-verbally command the hoodie, which would make his words all the more suspicious. Especially since he noticed they wore clothes that were very old fashioned. Almost cloak-like. In a flash, Tyr realised that the three in front of him were wizards. He tore his eyes away from them, refusing to make eye contact and stared at the sea.

The silence was very tense, and in Tyr's case, fairly awkward.

Eventually, as if to correct a mistake, the mother coughed out loud. Tyr glanced at her to see them almost imperceptibly eying him. It made him feel very ill at ease. Eventually he realised all this silent posing would accomplish nothing so he decided to break the tension, or at least ease it into a calmer atmosphere: the kind with biscuits and porcelain teacups.

Tyr sighed deeply and then quipped,

"You do realise that this oh so subtle game of catching me out by staring at me is going to be fairly tedious and unless one of us moves, well we're going to be stuck in this eye to eye power struggle for at least forty minutes."

The boy then mumbled,

"I don't know what your talking about."

Tyr smiled at this and looked directly at the boy. He gazed for a few seconds before belaying his trump card. They were wizards, so they could see the hoodie. Tyr said,

"If you're curious about the hoodie, then I can tell you where I got it."

The boy snorted and the parent's looked at Tyr with the same level of scorn. He then decided to let Tyr in on the whole little secret,

"You obviously stole it. Typical muggle, just taking what you think is yours with no sense of propriety. It belongs to our kind, so give it over and we'll make you think none the wiser."

He finished this little smart faced comment with an arrogant sneer. Tyr decided to burst his bubble. He just looked at the boy with a mark of indifference and replied with a deadpan tone,

"Muggle? I prefer the term non-magical, less of a derogatory term. Let me guess, you think that because I wear these clothes and not those blithering dresses with enough space to hide several suitcases, not to mention you could trip over them. You could all be attending a steam-punk association with the vintage clothing, but oh dear, you are too ignorant to know what that is. Silly wizard folk. Ah, sir you might want to stow your wand away in that cane, I have something to show you which you may understand."

At this last comment, Tyr turned to the right and showed him the symbol on his left shoulder. The boy's father's eyes widened considerably at the mark and rapidly apologized. He then gestured to his wife and son,

"Come Draco, Narcissa, the young man needs rest from his travels. I trust you find what you are looking for in London."

At that he stood up and gestured for 'Draco' and 'Narcissa' to do the same. As he left, he looked back and extended a hand,

"If you do find yourself in a tight spot, just look for the name Malfoy. We would be good allies in a sticky situation."

Tyr had a feeling that this was one of those moments where he would be making a big decision on how his life in the Wizarding world would go. On one hand, he could refuse the offer and stick to his principles, going solo. In the short run it would make him feel fairly noble, but would leave him with a potential enemy. On the other hand, he would have a useful contact, a potential ally and possibly a source of information.

He took the hand of the man and shook it firmly. He then said,

"I look forward to potential outcome of this alliance, Mr. Malfoy."

At this, the man looked fairly relieved and left with his wife and son, going to a secluded spot on the ferry and then a small pop was heard. Tyr could almost imagine that if someone went to that spot, there would be nothing there but a bin full of rubbish.

XXXXXXX

Tyr had spent the rest of the journey in silence, mentally trying to remember every detail about the three. From what he gathered, the 'Malfoys' were aristocrats and users of the word muggle. They were quick to anger and prideful and arrogant. Judging from the clothing, they had a particular fondness for black, were vampires or belonged to the Dark. Dark black obsessed vampires. He snorted at that. If they were dark then they could have been responsible, but Tyr understood the futility of the situation. He couldn't wildly jump to the conclusion that every wizard had killed his parents and brother or were in some way responsible. What made the most sense right now was getting to the Leaky Cauldron.

Disembarking the ferry was no problem. He just had to find Francois' contact. He was about to give up looking when he passed through a man with a big sign labeled "Tyre". He knew right away that this was he. He went to an alley nearby and reappeared. Walking up to the man, Tyr asked,

"Are you looking for a boy called Tyr?"

The man turned and nodded. Tyr then said in a stage whisper,

"It's me!"

The man loomed over him, very serious and Tyr got the impression that this man was not to be trifled with, before he grinned and held Tyr in a massive hug. It turned out that the man was called Pietr and he'd been an old friend of Francois' back in the old days of black and white television. He spent the journey from Dover to London regaling Tyr with stories of mischief that he and Francois and their gang of friends would do: stealing knickers from old women and hanging them in the gardens of engaged boyfriends (who would suffer the wrath of their girlfriend or mother), or throwing rotten pears at the local factory at night.

Tyr thought if they circled some of the parts of Inner London, they would find it but London was massive. They had just about given up when they noticed a massive man in a brown coat with a black beard and a small scrawny kid with glasses next to him. They quickly parked the car and tailed the two at a distance. Pietr was certain that the man was just abnormally tall, one of the ones you find in a circus and was about to tell Tyr so until out of the pocket of the big man came a glint of gold. It rolled on the floor and if not for Tyr picking it up, Pietr would never have seen it. The little coin had miraculously been unnoticed by the massive crowd. Pietr had been a coin collector in the old days and could still remember a fair amount of different gold coins. This resembled none of them and seemed to be made of solid gold, which was fairly thick at that.

The way the massive man had dropped it made Tyr think. He had dropped it and hadn't seemed to notice, that meant there was more and that it was fairly common to carry gold around. That was fairly magical when you thought about it and he promptly told Pietr so. Tyr pocketed it with the intent of giving it to the man if he turned out to be a wizard. If not, then he could hand it back anyway with no harm done. Eventually the man came to a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. It was here that Pietr and he would part ways. The man gave him his business card if ever he needed a lift and said he would tell Francois he got Tyr to his destination safely. Tyr told him to write down the name of the street and told him that the pub was between two shops, even though he knew Pietr couldn't see it.

Pietr didn't seem to mind. He understood that this was important to Tyr and although the boy had said little about himself on the journey, the older man knew that this one was going to take the world by storm. By God, if that stirred the old mischief-maker inside him and Pietr found himself agreeing to help the boy through thick and thin.

Giving Tyr a big crushing hug, he said goodbye and left. Tyr felt touched by the older man's gesture and turned to the pub. Taking a breath to calm himself, he walked in. Inside the pub was abuzz with energy. People were talking to each other in excited whispers and murmurs. Tyr caught snatches,

"Harry Potter!"

"… grown up so fast. Looks just like his father, except for the eyes. He has his-"

"-mother's eyes! What a fine witch she turned out to be! Muggleborn mind, but a brilliant witch nonetheless!"

Tyr didn't know who this Harry Potter boy was, but there was that scrawny kid with glasses. He was some sort of celebrity in the Wizarding World. Perhaps the large man was some sort of bodyguard to keep all his fans from attacking him in a mass attack. It seemed plausible with all the talk. Standing at the entrance speculating wasn't going to get him to Diagon Alley so he made for the bar and got on a stool. The barman noticed him and greeted him,

"Good afternoon lad! I'm Tom, the owner of this establishment. What is your business here? Your parents around?"

Tyr was going to ask about Diagon Alley, before impulse took over and he ended up blurting out,

"Who is Harry Potter?"

The whole pub went silent and Tyr felt a million stares at his back. Tom looked at him with shock and the man next to him murmured in shock,

"Who is Harry Potter? Who is Harry Potter?! Are you trying to be funny boy?!"

Tyr knew the situation could turn sour if he took time with his answer, so he quickly replied,

"No, not really. Its just I came here looking for Diagon Alley on account of having never been there and I need to buy supplies. Anyway, I walked in here and everyone was talking about this Harry Potter and he seemed fairly important so I just asked."

The man looked taken aback and Tom was about to answer when a witch at the back called out scornfully,

"Muggleborn are you? Well, that explains it then. Just a bloody ignorant mudbl-"

"Actually," Tyr replied loudly over the witch, "my dad was a wizard. My mother was non-magical. I'm half and half. I just lived in a place where Harry Potter wasn't really mentioned, or talked about."

"Is."

"What?" asked Tyr.

"Is. Your dad is a wizard and your mother is a muggle," answered Tom with a confused look on his face, almost as if trying to piece a puzzle together.

Tyr sighed deeply and said,

"No Tom. Was. My dad _was_ a wizard. My mum _was_ non-magical. They died a year ago."

There was a general gasp and Tom said,

"Sorry lad. My mistake."

"It's okay Tom. I just need to see if my dad left me anything. I know he enrolled me into Hogwarts and I did get my letter but I don't have any money to pay for the supplies."

The man next to him offered a hand,

"Baltimore Fawley, at your service. My nephew is going to start his second year, so I know which shops to go to for your supplies. We can visit Gringotts first to see if your father left anything behind for you. What say you?"

It was the second time that Tyr found himself with a hand extended towards him, but this time there was no choice. He had a guide and someone who seemed trustworthy. Tom seemed to trust him, and Tom reminded Tyr of Pietr. It was enough for him. For the second time on the journey, Tyr gripped the hand back and said,

"Tyr Everell. I would be delighted if you could show me the delights of Diagon Alley."

'This boy could easily be a Ravenclaw,' Baltimore thought, 'he's got the big words down just right.'

"Everell?" Called out the witch at the back. "Ain't heard of no Everells before."

"It's my mother's maiden name. After they died, I used that name instead. It was easier. Dad never really mentioned his last name, didn't seem to want to share it. I knew he was in Hufflepuff though,"

There was a snort from the witch, but Baltimore smiled. 'Hufflepuff. Not the house with the greatest set of heroes, but a good sense of family and loyalty. Very hardworking lot too."

He then got up from the stool and said,

"Come on then Mr. Everell. The term starts in a week and you need to get your supplies still."

Tyr got up and nodded. Together they both walked out the back and past a rather quivery purple turbaned fellow with an awful stutter and a twitchy eye.

Out round the back was a small little garden and the smell of beer prevalent. A man lay on the side, curled up and muttering about the prices of cauldrons and how the ministry was getting stricter. Baltimore steered him clear of the man and walked over to the wall. He told Tyr to stand back and tapped the bricks in a particular sequence. The brick shifted and moved, quickly assembling into a rough brick arch and beyond it was the chaos of a traditional market. Baltimore announced with grandeur,

"Welcome to Diagon Alley!"

'That line never gets old,' thought Baltimore.

XXXXXXX

Diagon Alley. A separate stylization of "Diagonally" and a cramped centre of shops and stalls filled full of all sorts of magical items. Baltimore pushed past the hurried queue of last minute shoppers and they came up to a large marble front of an important looking building. It read "Gringotts" in carved letters across the front. Before he went through the doors, a plaque in gold read:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn,_

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Tyr translated this as: do not attempt to rob this place. Baltimore nodded to the plaque and said,

"Goblins. They know their stuff when it comes to gold and security. They just have a particular dislike for wizards. Best not to get on their bad side, so be prompt and efficient, formality and humility helps too."

They walked together through the main lobby, past the clerks and other wizards doing business and approached a nearby teller. Long fingered with gnarled nails and wrinkled skin, the goblin looked through its small spectacles down its long nose and at the small boy in front dressed in a light grey short cloak and his companion.

"Yes?"

The goblin asked.

"My name is Tyr Everell and I would like to know if my father left any money to me in the event of his death. He was Daniel Evenstar."

A short intake of breath came from Baltimore. 'Daniel Evenstar? That one? He disappeared, went into hiding years ago after the Light and Dark hunted him. Now he's dead and his son appears! What a mystery indeed!' On further musing, Baltimore realised that the boy probably knew what kind of reaction that name would have and purposely kept it a secret.

The goblin nodded at Tyr and then said,

"We will need to ask you a few questions and possibly a blood test to confirm your heritage. If you would like to follow Gornuk here."

At this, the goblin gestured to 'Gornuk', who promptly let both Tyr and Baltimore to an office. It was a grandiose sort of office, Victorian style and black stone floors. Very impressive. The desk and chairs were on a thick imperial rug. Gornuk sat at the main chair with Tyr and Baltimore opposite him. He began to fill out some formal documents and then said,

"If you don't mind answering a couple of questions, we can start your heritage test."

Tyr said he didn't mind and the questioning began. It was mostly trivial information, what was his birth date and what was his father's name, his mother's name. It had been going smoothly until Gornuk asked,

"Did you have any siblings? A brother or a sister?"

Tyr gave a start, he remembered Cor quite vividly though recently the images of him in life had started to taint with horrors of his corpse riddled body. He answered the question,

"Yes. I had a brother. His name was Cor. It was short for Corax"

"Was?"

Enquired Gornuk.

"Yes. He was killed along with my mother and father."

"Did you see the perpetrator?"

"No. I never noticed them. The bodies were in their beds but charmed not to smell unless the covers were removed. They didn't rot until after the covers were taken away either. Then they started to rapidly decompose."

Tyr felt the memories draw him back to that day and he was startled out of his reverie by Baltimore's hand on his shoulder. Baltimore was horrified by the dead tone that the boy took when describing it. This was something for the mind healers at St. Mungos to look at. Then he remembered that the kid was the son of Daniel Evenstar. That man had enemies everywhere, there was no hiding place Tyr if news got out that he was Evenstar's son.

Gornuk cleared his throat.

"That is enough questions Mr. Evenstar. If you would just like to place a drop of blood upon this seal here, we can finish the test."

Tyr took a needle out from his pocket (he used it for occasionally making repairs to his clothes) and pricked his finger and let a drop fall out onto the seal. It glowed slightly and then faded away.

Gornuk then checked the seal and grunted.

"Everything seems to be in order. Your father came here two years ago and named you his heir in the event of his death. Your brother was the second heir to inherit the vault in the event of your death. You may use this key to unlock your vault. Do you wish to make a withdrawal now?"

Tyr said as much and they left the office to do so. The vault itself was impressive. It had a low ceiling but was filled with a library of books to the side and a large pile of coins. Baltimore showed him which coins to take with him and roughly how much he should bring to spend on supplies and what to spend on luxuries. As they left the bank, Tyr made sure to thank Gornuk and the head goblin for their courtesy and civility before he left to get his supplies, Baltimore at his heels.

XXXXXXX

As they got out, it looked like the crowd had thinned out. It was around lunchtime but there weren't many people around. Tyr took it as a sign and followed Baltimore to a shop that seemed to sell clothes. They were about to walk in when they heard a voice screeching from within,

"No! You stupid woman, the cloth looks all baggy and straggled. Now it won't look elegant and refined. A Malfoy always looks presentable, even in educational establishments!"

Baltimore sighed, he had been hoping not to have Tyr exposed to the more narrow-minded pure blood families just yet and here was a Malfoy at their worst. He glanced at the boy only to see a faint trace of amusement on his lips. Tyr then looked up at Baltimore and said,

"You go on and check out those broomsticks. I could see you eying them when we walked by. Don't you worry about me, I can handle this just fine."

Baltimore looked startled, but acquiesced the kid. He seemed to know something that he didn't. Regardless, that Nimbus Two Thousand looked pretty sweet. He walked away leaving Tyr to the petulant wails of a stuffy pureblood.

Inwardly, Tyr was wondering if it was by some twist of fate that Draco Malfoy was having a tantrum in the shop just as he went to get his clothes from said shop. Regardless, he walked in. The door ringed and the woman at the counter tore her eyes from the blonde brat to see a pale little boy with black hair.

"Hogwarts, dear?"

She enquired.

Tyr nodded and moved to stand on one of the stalls. Draco was still moaning on, oblivious to the new customer. Tyr leaned over as if in confidence and said,

"You do realise that you are allowing not only myself but many other self respecting people to see a side to yourself that isn't entirely civil nor becoming of a person of your standing."

Draco stiffened at the voice, stopping mid rant to see the boy with the strange grey garment who had been on that large Muggle boat, standing on the stool next to him. The stool where that other boy with glasses and messy hair had been before. Draco quickly realised that he had not replied to the boy and said,

"I didn't see you come in. Besides, it's no matter if people do see me on my bad side. A Malfoy is not to be trifled with."

The last part sounded like a quote, similar to what a child would learn when trying to imitate their parents. Tyr swiftly replied,

"Yes, but you see I am unofficially affiliated with you. If this is what you really are like then I may think about retracting from the offer your father made on the ferry. Anyway, is a Malfoy not to be trifled with because of what a Malfoy is? Or is a Malfoy not to be trifled with because of what a Malfoy represents?"

Draco remembered that the boy was in an alliance with his father, and as such with himself as well. It meant Draco had to be civil and polite with the other child as well as retracting further insults and threats. The final couple of questions made him think for a minute. Why was a Malfoy not to be trifled with? It sounded like he should say both to the questions, but the nagging feeling in his head told him not to answer. For once, he decided to listen to that feeling. He also realised that he didn't know the boys name, and promptly asked,

"It is rather rude of you to know my name when you seem to know mine."

Tyr inwardly grinned, this whole pompous posturing had finally procured a question that was almost direct, and answered,

"I only pieced together your name from the what your father called you when you left and the name he gave when extending a hand. Anyone could have figured that out. Regardless, My name is Tyr Everell. The last name is my mother's because my father's last name has negative connotations."

That answer only left Draco intrigued. Everell was not a Wizarding name so it had to be a muggle surname. It also meant that his father was a pureblood whose last name was notorious, also making this Tyr a halfblood. It narrowed the list down but unless the boy was a bastard, Draco couldn't think of any family that possibly resembled him. He stored the information in the back of his head and replied,

"Draco Malfoy. Charmed I'm sure."

The silence between them was not companionable at all. If anything it stretched on and on. They finished at roughly the same time and Draco's parents came to collect him with Baltimore arriving to stand near Tyr. He seemed to want to get Tyr out of there quickly but Mr. Malfoy noticed Tyr and called out,

"Ah, the boy from Calais. How have you enjoyed the Alley so far? I trust you have had a pleasant journey?"

Tyr turned, and with a small smile, he said,

"Oh most certainly Mr. Malfoy. I was in a brief discussion with your son about the behavior of young wizards in public. It was most entertaining and he kindly gave me a demonstration. I was quite rude at our last meeting and didn't introduce myself. My name is Tyr Everell and it was wonderful to meet your acquaintance. Unfortunately I have to depart with my companion, but have a wonderful day. Goodbye."

They left after that, though not before Tyr tipped the woman at the counter for "bearing with blonde haired menace." She gave a nod, a quick thanks and a small smile before bustling off. Baltimore almost seemed about to burst. Tyr realised he could lose his guide if he didn't tell Balty the whole story. Once he finished the tale, complete with little quips, Baltimore was deep in thought.

"What gets me is what on earth was Lucius Malfoy and his family doing on a ferry between Calais and Dover? Old Lucius hates Muggles, thinks purebloods should be at the top. He'd have no reason to be there, unless he was a closeted Muggle lover!"

At this he snorted, emphasizing how unlikely that was. Tyr had no clue and said as much. Either way, Baltimore decided to get them back on track. They had the robes and went to Flourish and Blots for books. Getting the books on the list was a piece of cake but Tyr also bought a couple of others that seemed to explain a few things:

_Baltik Prospero's Guide to Wizarding Genealogy, Gray: The Lost Legion by R. P. Gustavos, A Guide to the Wizarding World, Hogwarts: A History by Bathilda Bagshot _and _The Art of Cloth Charming by Ruinik Forgue_. Tyr wanted to check genealogy to see if his dad was related to anyone and if he had any relatives. The Lost Legion was a history book about the Gray, a side that remained impartial in the Light/Dark conflict and had been supposedly wiped out in the last purge during the Grindelwald Conflict. It was written with a fairly clinical view on the whole thing, compared to other books whose authors were disgusted by the Gray. Tyr had a strange suspicion that his father, or at least the Evenstars were openly affiliated with the Gray if not Gray themselves. It would explain the murder quite cleanly and the reason why the Ministry didn't take take notice of the whole affair. Tyr decided to only consider that as a possible answer since he didn't have enough facts.

The history of Hogwarts and the guide to the Wizarding World would help him get his head around the customs and traditions and prejudices of the people here. It may also explain the relation the British Ministry had with the French, something that still made Tyr feel uncertain about. The last one was about the hoodie. Randolf had mentioned it before, saying it made a reference to the type of garment the hoodie was and it had a mention of the half circle symbol in it. Tyr wanted to understand more about this item that seemed to be very rare and strange compared to the robes and cloaks worn by typical wizard kind.

Leaving Flourish and Blotts with a couple of bags filled with books and robes, Balty deemed it practical to get a trunk to carry it all in. They came to a dusty little shop called The Brass Hinge and inside was a portly man sitting behind a large oak desk. He quickly looked up and announced,

"Welcome to The Brass Hinge! A fine establishment where you can buy magical trunks of all sorts of sizes, shapes and materials. If you are looking for a school trunk, a travelling trunk or even a boarding room, we have it all here!"

His opening pitch finished, the man waited for them to respond. Balty was unsure, the whole place looked worn and dusty. He could imagine the salesman hadn't gotten many customers recently. He was about to answer when Tyr cut across from him,

"Good afternoon. We are here for a travelling trunk. I would be looking for a school trunk normally but my family takes us abroad and travelling most of the time so it would be wiser if I got a travelling one instead. Is it possible to customize it so that I can still fit my school things inside?"

The man nodded smartly and gestured to a particular trunk at the end. It was a medium sized trunk, with thirteen brass clasps down the side of it and leather straps along the width of it. The leather was plain and sturdy and there was further brass along the edges of the trunk. The wood was a deep oak and there were a few scratches from wear on the sides. When Tyr pointed this out, the salesman replied that this trunk was second-hand, all the trunks here were.

'Didn't mention that when we got here did you?" Thought Baltimore, a glint in his eye. He asked the man who the trunk belonged to. The man looked back with a mark of respect and said,

"My uncle Alfred. He was a known drunkard and womanizer but by God he had travelled the length and breadth of this Earth. I've cleaned the insides out and furnished the velvet on the pockets. Do you want to take a look?"

Baltimore and Tyr both indicated as much and the salesman unlocked the thirteen latches and opened the trunk. Inside were a set of smart compartments, but there were a few oddities in it. Firstly was the narrow compartment to the side that covered the height of the trunk. When questioned about it, the salesman whose name was Mark Adeline explained that it was for a broom. Ideally you could shrink your broom only slightly and store it away in the trunk for quick use. The idea had potential merit for Tyr and he said as much. Baltimore didn't know where the boy thought he could get a broom from but didn't say anything about it.

The second oddity was a large chunk of wood at the bottom. It ended in a solid base but Tyr didn't think so. He had found a key tucked away underneath one of the velvet folds and saw a keyhole at the bottom of the 'base'. Mentioning this to both Balty and Adeline, he opened up the secret compartment to reveal a cache of malt whiskey. The two men were mortified to find that there, but Tyr was laughing at the thought that, if remained undiscovered, he would have accidentally smuggled alcohol into school in his first year.

After removing the whiskey from the container, followed by a few girls' knickers kept preserved in the compartment prompting further laughter from Tyr, they moved on to the third oddity. There was an antique china tea set in one of the compartments. It was white and each piece was adorned with little rabbits in coats going about their business with lilies in the background. There was a teapot and a sugar dish. Accompanying it was a set of silverware. It was a gem to see and all of it was perfectly preserved. Tyr moved to convince Adeline to keep it and saw there was no need; he claimed he had no use for it, saying he would keep the price as it was.

They cleaned out the rest of it and put the books and robes inside the compartments. Once finished, Adeline charged them only fifty Galleons and five Sickles for the whole thing, on account of the cleaning and the secret container of whiskey and panties. As they both left the shop whilst wishing Adeline a good day, Baltimore turned to Tyr and asked him how he thought he was going to get a broom.

Tyr replied,

"Look. For a typical first year, getting a broom is not necessary because they have parents help them get around, like that Floo stuff you mentioned earlier. I, on the other hand, am alone and travelling between Paris and London, and have a travel case that can take a broom. Unless I get a job in between years, the amount of money I have will dwindle considerably and getting a broom means I spend less on transport altogether. Besides, if I get one, you can teach me how to fly one."

Baltimore grinned at the idea of teaching the brat to fly, and he made good points about his current living situation but there was a snag,

"How are you going to pay for a broom? They're notoriously expensive and older brooms are more of a hazard due to age. The spells wear away over time."

Tyr pointed to a shop called Splinter & Kreeks.

"That place sells second hand brooms. If they're being sold, that means they're still in good condition. We can go to a repair shop to strengthen the charms otherwise."

Baltimore just chuckled and said,

"You got it all figured out haven't you? I reckon you'll be a Ravenclaw at least."

They ended up buying a Nimbus 1000. The owner of the shop said that it was fairly old, but had been revolutionary at the time. It was very durable and sturdy with a claim to becoming the first standard broom for professional Quidditch. They had managed to haggle the price down to a hundred and fifty galleons for the broom and a repair kit thrown in. After purchase it was put in the compartment.

There was still plenty of daytime left but Baltimore didn't want to risk it. They breezed through the apothecary supplies, potions equipment and cauldron sets, though they bought a second cauldron since usually they end up melting. Baltimore had burst into gales of laughter when he found that Tyr had bought an Eastern Screech Owl and called it Blunderbuss. When questioned between fits of laughter, Tyr pointed out that Blunderbuss had a hacking cough, which sounded like the fire of a blunderbuss, and a piercing screech to boot. Baltimore wisely didn't comment any further and the rest of the shopping went without a hitch.

XXXXXXX

Finally it came to the wand. Secretly, Balty had been dreading this moment. The boy Tyr was a son of an Evenstar, and they had the worst reaction to wands. What he remembered of Daniel Evenstar was that he had never used a wand and had told Balty in confidence that it was shaped like a wand but hollow on the inside since he reacted badly with the core. For some reason, the Evenstars used their hands instead to direct magic. It took precise control and skill but made them unreliable with a wand.

Regardless, Tyr needed a wand and for a good one, they came to Ollivanders: Fine Wand Makers since 392 BC. Tyr got the feeling that this last stop was going to be one to remember.


	4. Chapter 3

I have forgotten entirely this important piece of writing that is meant to be at the top here:

**I do not own Harry Potter, I never will nor do I make any claims towards the ownership of the franchise, the characters or the setting. I do hold claim and ownership to Mr Tyr Everell, his cousin I.F. Evenstar and all elements of the Legion of the Grey.**

That about sums it up rather nicely. This chapter is late, because I was bored but I persevered to the end, so here it is, only 2 days late of schedule. Almost a record coming from me.

Chapter 3

The bell rang as they entered. Cramped and small, it was bustling full of other children. Strangely enough it was silent save for the soft voice of the owner, presumably Ollivander. It was almost a miniature audience for the recipient of a wand. Tyr and Balty waited at the back, Balty had a nervous expression on his face. He wasn't sure how to put it to the kid, that his family had very explosive reactions to wands. He could feel a thrum of magic from the implements as they reacted to Tyr. It didn't help that there were more victims- no, children in the establishment than usual.

After a half hour, the crowd had sufficiently thinned for Ollivander to notice them. He let out a slow breath and beckoned both of them forward. The crowd parted, with a few families indignantly complaining at the alleged favouritism. Addressing Baltimore, Ollivander said,

"Baltimore Fawley, you look quite worse for wear since we last met. Ash, unicorn hair, eleven inches and variably supple was it not?"

"Yes it is. No my wife left me recently, not as in we aren't still seeing each other, she just said she wanted to move out. I hadn't seen her in a while."

Ollivander gave him a considering look and turned to Tyr,

"Child, I do not know who you are, though your face tells me you are a relation of Daniel Evenstar."

Tyr looked into those moon-ish eyes and replied,

"Yes, he was my father. He passed away recently. He never spoke of you though."

Ollivander gave a small and merry laugh at that.

"No! I don't suppose he would have. Although we are related, the Evenstars always sought to distance themselves from the main pureblood lines. I did suspect Daniel was a father a few years ago when we last spoke. I am indeed sorry for your loss, he was a kind and decent soul."

Tyr nodded at that. He knew his father as a non-magical person, his parents never seemed to do any magic, only saying they could see the hoodie. When he had asked about them doing any magic, they said they didn't see the point since Cor had yet to do any. If he was non-magical then they would do a big reveal. Then they had died before Cor had done any supposed magic.

Ollivander had been speaking to Baltimore; he then turned to Tyr and said,

"I am afraid that this will not be a normal wand testing. Evenstars tend to have a volatile reaction to wands. Let's see… ah, here it is, rowan, dragon heartstring, sixteen inches and very bendy."

Tyr held it uncertainly in his hand. Baltimore said,

"Give it a wave lad."

The other children in the shop snickered at Tyr's ignorance. He felt a little silly and gave it a wave. There was an almighty crack as the air rippled in a pulse, releasing a shockwave knocking all the families back. Baltimore and Ollivander were somehow grounded against it. The other children had gotten up quickly in shock. Things were looking hostile before Ollivander commented offhandedly,

"Ah yes, your family traditionally caused a shockwave on their first wave. We're on the right track!"

The other families quickly got out of the shop; one shockwave was more than enough. Tyr watched them leave and timidly asked,

"Is it okay if the wand does that on the first go? You're not going to lose customers because of me?"

Ollivander gave a rare grin and said,

"My dear child, I think you are more like your cousin than your father. His first wand wave nearly blew the roof of the shop off. Ironically he never actually had a wand, preferring to do things entirely with his hands. He did come to me on occasions for coreless wands, to give an imitation of being a wand caster. I fear you may be the same."

"My cousin?! I don't have a cousin!" Tyr exclaimed.

Ollivander frowned,

"Daniel didn't tell you did he? Ah there's the rub, you think you are the last of the Evenstar line. Not quite, your cousin is the other descendant. He remains in hiding since the last purge."

"Purge?!" Exclaimed Balty and Tyr.

"Yes purge. My god, what are they teaching children these days! I suppose I can explain a little. The story is this: Long ago, there used to exist another side, neither Light nor Dark, they were a force of wizards who bridged the gap between wizard kind and Muggles, choosing to mix the technologies together. A more advanced form of muggle tinkerers, if you will. They took in outcasts from either side, almost a home for the oddball in society.

The Grey, as they were known, were quite peaceful, although the rest of wizard kind almost universally hated them. During times of war they were attacked by both sides, these raids became known as purges. Eventually, as the purges began to take extreme losses on the Grey, so they developed a military force known as the Legion of the Grey. The Legion were defenders of the rest of the Grey, who had become independent of the rest of the Wizarding world. The last purge however, occurred during the Grindelwald conflict. The Grey were annihilated down to your father and your cousin. Daniel Evenstar is now dead, so the last of the Grey are you and your cousin, I.F. Evenstar."

Tyr had been still during the account and Baltimore was sickened, this was almost genocide. Tyr then spoke,

"Mr Ollivander, is this common knowledge? I mean, are the Grey known to the rest of the Wizarding world?"

"I am afraid not Mr Evenstar. I fear that knowledge of the past has slipped through our grasp."

"Good," said Tyr, "I want people not to know about all this."

Baltimore looked shocked and asked,

"Why ever not boy? The people need to know about this! It's an outrage that this happened at all."

Surprisingly it was Ollivander, who replied,

"No Fawley, Mr Evenstar is right, the truth should not be revealed. If his parents were murdered, then surely the killers would know of the legacy Tyr carries. It narrows down the number of suspects considerably."

With a jolt, Baltimore realised that the boy's killers were out there. The Aurors may interrogate him if they found out he was descended from the Grey. He would have to conduct all of his findings in secret, confiding in only a few people. Balty then asked,

"You said I. F. Evenstar, Ollivander. Do you know his given names?"

"Sadly I was never told his name, he himself never gave it, always saying that his parents had a warped sense of humour. I do know that he is somewhere in Mongolia, having left the Isle altogether."

"This is all very interesting," Tyr murmured, "but is it likely that any time soon I would have a wand? It is a requirement to attend Hogwarts."

Ollivander's eyebrows rose above his hairline,

"My dear boy, you intend to attend Hogwarts? That is plain suicide for someone of your relation. Why Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster there and he is the leader of the Light!"

Tyr gave no answer, simply indicating with his hand to the wands as if to say get on with it. As he did so, a wand shot out of the back of the shop and flew into Tyr's hand. In an instant, there was no shockwave; simply a gentle glow filled the shop and swirls of silver shot out of the tip with the faint smell of live electricity in the air.

"I do believe, that the wand has chosen its wizard."

XXXXXXX

By this point it was very late afternoon, the sky had turned golden and the clouds were highlighted pink in the light of the fading sun. Tyr and Baltimore exited the shop and the last stragglers searching for a wand entered with gusto. They made their way to the Leaky Cauldron where Tyr asked if there was a room available. After his reservation was made, they sat at a table for dinner.

Tyr ordered a shepherds pie with water and Balty got toad in the hole with a strong ale. Before they tucked in, Tyr leaned over and whispered,

"You never did tell me who Harry Potter was."

Baltimore looked up in shock, realised he didn't and that the Boy Who Lived was also going to attend this year, it would make for foolishness if the boy went to school without knowing who he was. He replied,

"I'll tell you right after we eat."

Tyr just nodded and tucked into the food. When they were finished, Balty ordered another ale and said,

"Right. I did say I would tell you who Harry Potter was. It all started twenty years ago. A dark wizard rose up called… well, we don't say his name, 'twas too synonymous with death you know. We call him You Know Who. What? Who was You Know Who? Bloody confusing question that is, all right, all right! His name was... Voldemort, don't ask me to say it again. Eh? Was his real name Voldemort? The hell if I know, but I doubt it, probably not his real name. Anyway, in the seventies he started this war with his followers against Muggles and Muggleborns. Things were getting bad, it was a terrible time, families fled and the Muggleborns went underground. There was a resistance, something like Order of something or rather. Anyway, the gist of the end was You Know Who went to the Potter family ten years ago. Eh? Yeah, they were a powerful pureblood family, Light-sided. The Potters had a son called Harry who was just a baby. You Know Who killed the parents and he cast the Killing Curse at Harry. Now this is the strange bit, the Killing Curse has had not one survivor, no one can resist it, so when he cast it at Harry Potter it didn't work. It backfired and hit him instead- was it faulty? Ain't good to joke about these things boy. You weren't joking… well, I suppose he might've but I doubt it. Anyway, Harry Potter was alive and You Know Who died. All he got for his troubles was a scar in the shape of lightning on his forehead. So now he's called the Boy Who Lived. What? No, he's still Harry Potter, he's just got a title now, like a reverence or something. Why's that stupid? Hmph, don't go spreading those theories, he probably don't remember anything anyway. Just a baby."

"Why is it so important to know who Harry Potter is anyway? Its not like he's oh, I get it, he's going to attend Hogwarts this year isn't he?"

Enquired Tyr.

"Yeah," said Baltimore, "That's why you got to be extra careful, you can't have your conflict interfere with the Boy Who Lived, best to stay away from him. Just in case he ends up in trouble and suspicion gets vaulted on you."

Tyr thought this over; it would be more trouble than it was worth to get involved with the whole Light/Dark conflict. Then he remembered the Malfoys, they seemed quite rich and similar to this Voldemort figure. They were his allies! Oh god, he was allied with a Dark family, he was already stuck with this fight and they potentially knew who he was because that symbol was the signature of the Legion of the Grey! Bugger. He confided in Baltimore his suspicions.

"Bugger. You've got a point; it would be your saving grace if you could get the Boy Who Lived to like you. Just make sure to keep him out of trouble."

Tyr nodded and thought that may work. He then thought back to what Ollivander had mentioned, that he had a cousin called I. F. Evenstar. Dad never mentioned family but in light of the events, it was probably to protect him. Now that Dad was gone, it would be best if he could get in contact. He asked Baltimore about it,

"I dunno about a cousin. The Evenstars were close knit; there are more myth than truth about them anyway. Ollivander mentioned that he would have been in Mongolia. I don't know much about the Mongolian Ministry, but he's probably there illegally. You might be able to get in touch; then it would be a matter of him visiting you from Mongolia."

Tyr considered it. Having a relative who knew about the magical world would be dead useful, and he could find out more about his family. Dad had kept too many secrets, now Tyr had to rely on himself and new companions in a new world. He had been thinking before about getting a house, but he already had a flat in Paris and the room with Francois. There was little point in getting another house. He yawned and Baltimore noticed,

"Merlin's Pustules, you've done a half days worth of travelling and gone shopping for supplies in a full day. You must be tired and I'd best be off, my wife might actually be back for a visit."

Tyr just nodded sleepily but then jolted awake and asked Balty before he left,

"Just a thought Baltimore, what side were the Fawleys on?"

Baltimore gave a thought and chuckled,

"We didn't do much, my cousin took part and died but we went underground. I think we kept neutral in the whole war."

Baltimore left at that and Tyr went upstairs to find Blunderbuss and his trunk already there. He just gave a small smile, patted Blunderbuss and went to bed.

XXXXXXX

The early morning light filtered through the curtains. The child in the bed stirred and eyes scrunched as if to stay the dawn for a bit longer, as if to prologue his sleep. The owl was quietly snoring; rasping sounds echoing from its beak in rapid staccato. To the casual observer the room already seemed well lived in, a grey hoodie slung casually across the edge of a mirror and clothes left bedraggled across the floor. Spell books lay on the desk; pages already dog eared and small notes taken in the margins. A trunk was tucked away in the corner.

The boy finally began to wake up and stretched accordingly. His hand knocked a crafted piece of wood to the floor, which landed abruptly on the floor with a shock that caused every piece of furniture to jump an inch in the air. The resulting sound shocked the boy, jack-knifing upright and turned his startled face to find his owl's face staring back, mirrored shock in each other's faces.

He then turned to look down and see his wand on the floor. He picked it up gingerly in apology before laying it carefully back on the bedside table. Scratching his head absent mindedly, the boy called Tyr lazily got out of the bed and walked over to the shower before coming back into the room to fetch a clean set of clothes. He eyed the robes with mild suspicion, they looked a lot like a dress, how did you not trip over them when you walked. It was all a mystery but he didn't want to appear to be a git. Eventually habit won over appealing to the majority and he picked up a pair of slim jeans, a vintage tee and a comfortable set of trunks. He heard a tsk as he walked back to the shower but saw no one there.

After his shower and changing, he emerged and walked over to the mirror to fetch his hoodie before he heard a nasally voice,

"You don't want to be wearing those awful Muggle clothes dearie. I daresay you would look far more dashing in those dark robes."

Tyr was still a little tired so his reaction was to dart his head around before fetching his hoodie. It was a little worn now, and it smelled a bit. He should have known that continuously wearing the hoodie meant it would get dirty, though he remembered Randolf mentioning a command for it to clean itself. He looked back to his written notes of the various commands and the book itself. Eventually he found the command and almost burst into laughter, all that came out was an amused snort. Whoever made the hoodie had a brilliant sense of humour and Tyr put the hoodie on-

"How juvenile. You have no style at all young man. Tsk, tsk, that is a poor imitation of a robe and in such a dreary colour. Grey! I mean I ask you!"

The voice had come from the mirror! Tyr felt like slapping his forehead with his hand, of course the mirror would talk. There was a magic mirror in Sleeping Beauty, and that was magic so there would be something similar that was the original. This mirror was full of snark and snobbery though, what did it matter if you wore robes or not. It did seem to matter to the mirror though, so he just asked,

"Does it really matter if I wear robes or not? They look exactly like a sort of dress and they don't seem to look casual at all."

The mirror seemed to ruffle its imaginary feathers, the two upper corners shuffling as it replied,

"Of course it matters dearie, you are a wizard now, you can't be going around wearing Muggle clothes. You'll be wearing robes as your uniform so you might as well get used to it."

"I can get used to it now, or I can treasure the last few days wearing my favourite clothes before I start prancing around in black capes and dresses. Besides, I was just about to try out a command so if you don't mind…"

The mirror huffed as Tyr tried to recount the command to clean the hoodie. His eyes widened as he remembered and he said,

"I've got it! _Get naked, luv_."

The sound of outrage emerged from the mirror, which puttered away as the hoodie glowed slightly; the armpit stains vanishing, worn areas of cloth returning to mint condition and a fragrance of lavender entered the room. The proverbial "ting" echoed as the command's effect ended.

In an awestruck voice, the mirror asked,

"Where did you get that garment dearie? I've never seen an item of clothing do that before."

Tyr looked at the mirror and said,

"It sort of a family heirloom."

The mirror went silent in thought. Tyr packed up his books and dirty clothes into his trunk and turned to his owl Blunderbuss. Tyr had been thinking and had a secret mission for the owl. He walked over to Blunderbuss with a letter he had written and gave it to the owl. He whispered into its ear, opened the window and let the owl loose. As it flew away, Tyr whispered,

"Godspeed."

At that, Tyr walks back to trunk, putting the owl cage inside before returning to the bedside table to fetch his wand. Leaving a note on the bed for Tom, Tyr pocketed the wand and grabbed his trunk before flipping the hood over his head and murmured,

"I want to be a spectator."

A few seconds later, Tyr was back in his room and turned only to flinch in shock. Sofia was on the bed with a teenage boy who had his shirt off and were both kissing. The fact that they hadn't noticed him yet was a testament to how caught up they were in the act. He disappeared quickly and drifted downstairs to see the café was not very busy, the last customers were on their last cups of coffee. He slipped into the kitchen and appeared before walking to the bar. He then said from behind Francois,

"What? No welcome party or oh look, you're back! How was the trip?"

Francois jumped and turned, noticing Tyr and in a startled voice said,

"Where the devil did you come from?!"

"Rather rude reply, that there."

Francois just grinned at the mock pout from the boy and gave him a hug. Tyr decided not to mention the boy upstairs; he had just come back and didn't want to deal with any drama. Francois called for Sofia and after a few more calls for her; she finally came down, a little breathless. She gave a start at Tyr's appearance, smiled and gave a brief hug. He could smell the faint hint of cigarettes on her but said nothing. For now he was just glad to be back among friends and spent the afternoon and evening regaling them with stories of his adventure and the people he met.

Life wasn't bad.

_Spoiler for Chapter 4:_

_The man turned away and almost inhaled the piece of fruit in his hands. Eyes a solid pitch black devoid of any other colour, he mused out loud,_

"_Fish! Pies! Dog nuggets! AND BISCUITS! God I feel special today."_


	5. Chapter 4

This is the shortest chapter, but I wanted make this a short little piece to explain about the other Evenstar, Tyr's cousin. I would have made this part of the next session but it would be super long since the next chapter has Tyr on the platform 9 ¾ and the Hogwarts Express. Once I came up with the idea of Tyr's cousin, I've wanted to write this piece almost instantly so this is the reason I was late with Chapter 3.

Also no disclaimer on this chapter, because there isn't anything to do with Harry Potter in this chapter. I doubt Rowling owns Blunderbuss the owl.

**Chapter 4**

**The Mongolia Mission**

Blunderbuss the owl was excited. His master had sent him on a long journey and the furthest he'd ever flown was Bristol. He flew up into the air currents and into a thermal, which sent him shooting across land and sea. It was one of the few magical trans-thermals that could take an owl across whole countries within a few days. For days he continued to ride the thermal before Blunderbuss finally noticed a few birds that sounded Eastern by their speech and dialect, deciding he was on track. Owls speak in hoots, and these birds spoke in triwhistles. This would be a long conversation.

To a casual observer, there would be a sound of whooing over a tremendous wind with the few sharp trills and whistles pervading in-between. What they were really saying was something like this:

"_Hello."_

Birds nod in greeting, head movement being universal except owls haven't got necks so they resort to the traditional hoo hoo and shrill shrieks.

"_I was informed by my master that I would need to journey to Mongolia. Am I flying nearby?_"

The birds almost nodded and angled their wings as if to point to the left. Blunderbuss noted it was a desert plain, if his geography was right they were called steppes. Mongolia was known to have them.

"_Good day dear friends. Have a good journey._"

They twittered and tweeted in reply as Blunderbuss left the air current and descended to the ground. He preened his feathers a little and turned his head sharply to scope his surroundings. Flat and barren, there was nothing here. He spent his days searching the land, stopping when he reached a border and turning back. Days turned into weeks as Blunderbuss kept searching, sensing for any magic that seemed like his master's. After living off lizards for weeks he was looking forward to returning to a nice juicy vole or a saucy bit of bacon.

It was at the beginning of the third week that Blunderbuss picked up something. It was strange and foreign in this foreign land, but was similar to his master's magic, very similar indeed. He flew towards the source but almost gave up hope at what he saw. Nothing, there was nothing there. He had reached the edge of a town and the source was empty. Tired and annoyed at himself, he perched on a rooftop to rest. As he rested, his eyes kept noticing this strange source of energy, seemingly invisible and very similar to his master's magic.

_(A.N: I would like to think that __Bedroom Hymns__ by __Florence + The Machine__ played for this scene.)_

He had spent a few days there and in the middle of the third week, something bizarre happened. The villagers in the outskirts of this town had gathered, bearing gifts of fruit and vegetables, grain and rice and chocolate.

There was no meat as an offering, although a lazy lizard had come out in the morning that had made for a nice breakfast. Blunderbuss found he was beginning to enjoy the nice taste of lizard, a bit stringy but it had such a flavour. It was also a little light on the intake but held such marvellous energy; it kept Blunderbuss going for the whole day.

The offerings were laid down in front of the energy, which moved in a transient way. It was pulsing now and a wind began to pick up. The villagers sat in a semi circle around the energy with the food in front of them. A middle aged man walked to the front and began to chant in a prayer as the ones sitting down repeated the same verse continuously. The wind picked up and clouds of dust rose from the plain. Then it all stilled, the wind died down.

It was a calm moment.

Slowly the trickle of current returned. It gathered in narrow ribbons from all around, the energy was slowly manifesting. The chanting got louder and louder, the tempo quickened and a low hum was heard across the plain through the ground. The energy began to coalesce into something, slowly taking form. The wind picked up further, forcing the people to look down and away from the phenomenon. Only the man at the front and the owl looked on. The chanting still persisted and the form coloured and shaped.

In a pounding rhythm, the rocks on the ground vibrating to the beat, a figure of a young man began to come out of the air. The energy building started to become a pressure, a dense collection of magic. It was so dense it felt like walking in soup, adrenaline injected thick air. The whole area was charged, filled with live energy.

Electric. Storm-like.

The people who were still there had frizzy hair, Blunderbuss' feathers began to rise on their own and the figure drifted down, eyes closed. He was devoid of raiment, a figure once the very air now flesh. Finally, standing on the floor, he looked at the man in front of him and slowly opened his eyes, revealing pitch-black orbs with only small pinprick reflections from the glaring sun. The leader of the chanters gulped, took a step forward and then in a gabble of language seemed to plead to the figure, hand gestures animating his story.

The man-from-air nodded and slowly crouched down to eat from the tribute. It seemed to be a dismissal and the rest of the chanters left. Blunderbuss was unsure to go to the figure. He now stank of magic similar to his master's magic, but was he even human? What was he? In the corner of the owl's mind, it realised it was afraid. Afraid of this relative who conjured himself out of the sky and filled with magic. He carried no wand, no robe.

This was not a wizard.

After a few moments of awe, clicking his beak at his fear, Blunderbuss decided not to dawdle and slowly swooped from the rooftop to the ground next to the man. The man in question was too preoccupied eating a piece of fruit. He noticed the owl perched next to him by the remaining tribute. A small swallow and the fruit was gone. He smiled wide, eying the owl predatorily. Blunderbuss hooted lowly. The spectral grin faded and he cocked his head to the side. In a voice worn and rugged, parched of water and from little use, he spoke,

"An Eastern Screech owl. You're a bit east of your regular habitat."

He paused at this, as if to recount where Eastern Screech owls came from and frowned. He spoke again,

"A magical owl. No regular creature can stand me, not even lizards or insects. Which means you have a message … well; I assume you have a message for me. Give it here and I may not eat you. I haven't eaten owl raw ever but I wouldn't mind giving it a go."

With a hoot of alarm, Blunderbuss dropped the letter and took to the sky. He returned to the roof and waited for his recipient's reaction to his master's letter. The sky-man opened the letter, and began to read. After a moment's deliberation, he called over to the owl.

Blunderbuss flew closely and perched nearby to the tribute but with enough distance to escape should the man try to eat him. The man said to the owl,

"Your master. He wouldn't happen to be a child with pale skin, brown hair and blue eyes, fairly average height for his age?"

Blunderbuss hooted in confirmation.

The man turned away and almost inhaled the piece of fruit in his hands. Eyes a solid pitch black devoid of any other colour, he mused out loud,

"Fish! Pies! Dog nuggets! AND BISCUITS! God I feel special today!"

Blunderbuss hooted in confusion. What did all that mean? He was answered as from the sky came clothes and a few wands along with a leather rucksack. Humming a tune, he put the clothes on and tucked the wands away before putting on the rucksack. Turning to Blunderbuss, he indicated for him to perch on his shoulder. After the owl did so, the man turned to him and said,

"Best buckle up for this ride, haven't done this with a passenger in a while. By the way, my name's Inky. Inky Evenstar."

Blunderbuss said nothing, thinking in his head that it was a very strange name. Still they would be home soon. The sun had drawn their shadows long as it began to come lower on the horizon. Inky gave a feral grin and broke into a run then hopped, skipped and jumped into the air. Both man and owl turned into a single bolt of blue lightning, streaking into the air higher and higher before turning horizontally and shooting through the sky.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 Redux

Tyr sat on a bench near to WHSmiths. He'd been at Kings Cross Station for half an hour. Technically he would 'board' the train for an hour so he had some time to kill, but Tyr had hit a small snag in the plan. Realistically he should have remembered, his parents and taken them to Kings Cross before.

Typically, there wasn't actually a platform 9 ¾. There were platforms 9 and 10, nothing in between besides people and luggage. Yet here he was sitting next to his trolley next to platform 9 waiting for some wizards to show up. They did say Kings Cross Station so you would have to be at Kings Cross to board, therefore he should see some wizards. He should have taking Randolf's dress code into account. No wonder people had thought the man was mad if every day he wore a wizards hat and robes around Angel market.

Still, he thought, musing over his observations of Randolf… If I thought that every wizard was like Randolf, then every wizard would wrinkle their nose at the thought of Muggles, pronounce telephone wrong and complain about the lack of magic in broad daylight. He knew from Randolf that there was meant to be a Statute of Secrecy but if wizards kept on talking about magic so commonplace, dropping gold coins (in the case of the large man Try saw escorting the Boy-Who-Lived) and wearing robes with wands as well as bloody owl mail then they must think that non-magical people were idiots. There were bound to be a few open minded people who could piece it all together and video tape everything.

It was a miracle indeed considering the carelessness of these wizards and witches that the Wizarding World still remained a secret. Still though, it was thanks to this carelessness that Tyr would find out how to get onto the platform.

Hopefully.

He thought about owl post and snorted. He adored Blunderbuss but for the life of him thought it was inefficient to trust an animal to mail things regardless of how much easier it seemed. What if, God forbid, the owl was injured or hurt. They probably got patched up with magic.

Although Tyr knew he had magic, he remained mostly non-magically raised. He found it too convenient to use it and in fact used his own magic sparingly. If the job could be gotten done without magic, why use it? Tyr couldn't imagine not travelling via his cloak or the Underground; it was an easier away around than this Floo Network that Baltimore explained about. You'd need to have a fireplace everywhere you went. If they didn't have a fireplace, how did you get around? Tyr knew he didn't know much but the little he did know made him wonder how practical magic was to his own lifestyle. The hoodie being the only thing he typically relied on. His wand was just a live fuse waiting to blow.

So caught up in his thoughts that Tyr just nearly missed a large red headed family trailed by the scrawny black haired boy all of whom had trunks with owls on top. He got his trolley, ready and watched them. The first two were obscured by a gaggle of tourists and the third one just vanished upon what would have been impact with the barrier.

He walked his trolley closer and maintained a hearing distance. He didn't want to look suspicious, he didn't have an owl or a pet cage, having sent Blunderbuss along to find his cousin rumoured to be in Mongolia. Besides everyone was a suspect or may belong to the family that killed his for whatever reason though Tyr strongly suspected that it was because his dad and his cousin had been one of the last of the Grey and someone was still hunting them down.

With that suspicion came a few clues, if the person(s) responsible had been hunting his family they would have to be very pro-light or pro-dark. They would have to have a strong affiliation with either side and be known to favour that side. This narrowed his suspects down to Albus Dumbledore, the remaining Death Eaters and Harry Potter. That reasoning didn't bode well for Tyr, because Harry Potter was just in front of him entering Platform 9 ¾.

Deciding he'd wasted enough time loitering, he pushed his trolley along and ran at platform 9. Not even bracing himself for impact, Tyr watched the station change to show a red brick platform bustling full of people. A large red steam train was alongside it, with brass lettering emblazoned on the front, the Hogwarts Express.

So this was Platform 9 ¾ Tyr wondered. He made sure to move out of the way for any newcomers and pushed his trolley to the side and heaved out his trunk. An older boy helped him to move it to the top of one of the carriages and left him with Tyr managing to say a quick "Thanks."

There was no one else in the carriage so Tyr reached into his shoulder bag and pulled out an issue of Tank Girl to read. It was in English strangely enough, a memento from Francois' old comic-reading days. Chuckling quietly to himself as he read about Booga's latest antics, he didn't hear the door slide open to reveal a boy who was desperately holding onto a dark green toad. He looked slightly wary and worriedly at Tyr before coughing slightly. Tyr looked up and saw the boy at the door and said,

"Come in if you want. I've got too much space to myself. Sorry for not noticing, I was too caught up in reading… well, this comic."

The boy smiled slightly and sat down with the toad. Before a presumably awkward silence could start Tyr introduced himself,

"Oh, my name is Tyr Everell."

The boy quickly replied, almost grateful for the conversation starter,

"I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom."

Tyr nodded and asked,

"Are you a wizard?"

Neville nodded and then grinned.

"What's so funny?" Asked Tyr who was confused.

"Well," said Neville, "you're a wizard as well, aren't you?"

The last bit was said playfully and Tyr couldn't help but grin back, this guy was all right. He decided to humour Neville by what he really meant,

"Yes I am, I suppose. What I meant was though, you knew you were a wizard right? Before you got your letter? I mean you and your parents must do magic all the time."

At the mention of his parents, Neville went quiet. Tyr winced and realised it was fairly insensitive to assume that everyone still had family, he was about to change the subject when Neville replied,

"I didn't really know. I live with my Gran and they thought I was a Squib for a long time. I didn't really know until my Uncle Algie dropped me off the first floor by accident and I bounced. They were so pleased that they got me Trevor."

Tyr wondered what sort of guardians dropped a kid from the first floor, though there was magic so it must've been some kind of stunt. Or maybe they were just trying to force the magic out of him to make them proud. It sounded quite terrible now that he thought about it. Before he could go on a mental wander about it, Neville asked him,

"What about you? Did you know you were a wizard before you got your letter?"

Tyr had thought beforehand long and hard about this kind of answer. If he left in hints of the story, he'd have to give the same answers and eventually people would get suspicious. If he left out all of the truth he would be living a complete lie and fabricated lies could get complicated if he forgot his story. Eventually he decided to half stick to the story and wing it for the rest. So he answered Neville with,

"I didn't know. My parents died only a year ago and I've been changing custody for a while that now I live more or less on my own. I got my letter in a flat and thought it was a hoax. I replied back anyway thinking I would accept on a lark and then I bought found this hoodie. No one else could see it but me and the guy selling it. He had what looked like a wand in his pocket and that's when I started to believe it was all real. I got him to help me shop for things, but I don't know if I have any magic… I'll just wait and see what they'll do with me."

At the end of this explanation, Neville looked gobsmacked. The concept of not having anyone to look after himself was strange enough but to accept a Hogwarts letter with no clue what it was all about and just coming here not realising the consequences went beyond daft and into borderline insane. He had a trunk and he had gotten onto the platform so he was magical and Hogwarts only sent the letter if he was a wizard, but how did the boy-Tyr get a wand if his relatives weren't around?

He just asked weakly,

"Aren't you afraid they could wipe your memory if you aren't meant to be there? You said a letter got to you, but you hadn't done any magic before. Usually the letter only comes if you have done magic and have enough to enrol."

Memory wiping? Tyr was alarmed. They could erase your memory, which explained all the carelessness that they had, they could just wipe the memories of any witnesses and be merrily on their way. It made him furious just thinking about it, because even though it was all meant to be a secret, you couldn't just wipe the memories because of carelessness. Make wizards be more careful and you don't have the problem. What really riled Tyr up was the fact that memories were wiped to keep the secrecy. It was an invasion of privacy. Tyr knew that they needed that isolation but still. It made him ever so angry thinking about it.

He asked Neville incredulously,

"You mean to say they can wipe your memory? Just because you saw magic?"

Neville nodded seriously.

"That is a terrible thing to do. What if you botched it up and the whole mind got erased? Is that how wizards stay undetected? Just use a memory charm to get rid of suspicion?"

Neville was a little taken aback by Tyr's ferocity. He didn't make up the rules, but it was how it had always been. There was something else behind the words though, Neville realised that this boy must have noticed wizards before and not had his memory erased, explaining his easy acceptance of the whole affair.

He just replied,

"It's how it's always been. I hope you don't get your memory wiped you seem nice. Are you Muggleborn then?"

Tyr nodded, he thought that saying he was Muggleborn covered his ignorance fairly well. To all intents and purposes, he was Muggleborn.

"How did you get onto the platform? Most Muggleborns get a visitor from Hogwarts to explain everything."

Tyr explained,

"I didn't get a visitor. I just went to Kings Cross Station and when I got to platform 9, I didn't see platform 9 ¾. So then I got a sandwich and waited for someone to come by since people must get onto the platform somehow. Anyway, I saw a red headed family and a black haired boy trailing behind and they just ran at the barrier between 9 and 10. So I just ran and got onto the train and here I am."

Neville inwardly groaned, he'd followed the Weasleys onto the platform. He had trusted in the carelessness of wizards and it had paid off. How had the Obliviators missed this boy? Usually they got everyone, so many people would have seen wizards with trolleys running at barriers and disappearing. He was starting to catch onto Tyr's way of thinking. If wizards were this careless, they could lose the secrecy. It was a good thing that Tyr was a wizard otherwise it could all get nasty.

He was about to reply when he noticed that-

"Trevor's missing!"

They searched the compartment and their bags for the toad and then Tyr noticed a little crack in the door where it hadn't shut properly. He quickly pointed it out to Neville who just moaned. Apparently Neville always had trouble with losing things and was particularly clumsy and forgetful. Not the best combination, but Tyr himself was ignorant, paranoid and was going to help find the toad so he was in the same boat as well. They got out of the compartment and went to the next one. In it a girl was sat around a pile of books, reading from a very thick one with a couple of pens out and notes compiled and taken on exercise books. A few pieces of parchment were on the opposite seat among other books with a tentative hand in ink, presumably written with a quill, scribbled along it. Tyr just asked,

"Excuse me."

The girl looked up, her front teeth slightly prominent and her hair a wild bushy mess that had been mercilessly combed. She looked at both of them before saying,

"Yes, was there something you want?"

Neville then plucked up the courage to ask,

"Have you seen a toad by any chance? I've lost mine."

The girl blinked owlishly before stacking her books, making sure to reference and bookmark the pages before placing them back into her trunk and left the pieces of parchment where they were. After thoroughly looking through the whole compartment, she turned to them and said,

"No, not a toad in sight. Do you need help searching?"

Tyr remembered he had to look after his stuff, anyone could just come and nick it and he wouldn't know who had. He said to Neville,

"I left my stuff just hanging about, I need to put it away in case someone just goes and takes it, do you mind if I just go and put everything away?"

Neville nodded and Tyr went back to theirs, leaving him to tell the girl if they did indeed need help searching. He quickly went to the bag and pulled out the hoodie before pulling it on, he might need it just in case he had to disappear. If he had to have his memory wiped, he would disappear and they wouldn't be any the wiser. Putting everything away and reverently filing away the Tank Girl issue, Tyr put on his shoulder bag and left the compartment, making sure to shut it properly.

When he got back to the girl's carriage, he saw them both waiting for him. The girl then marched forward and with hand outstretched said,

"I'm Hermione Granger."

Tyr shook it with a slight grin and said,

"Tyr Everell."

She asked,

"You wouldn't happen to be a wizard, with the name Tyr. It's not a very common name."

"I could say the same about yours."

She flushed slightly and nodded. Introductions done, they went on to find Trevor the toad. They had been through many compartments, Hermione's forwardness ruffled quite a few feathers, and they weren't any closer to finding Trevor when they knocked on yet another door and opened it. Inside was the scrawny black haired boy and one of the boys from that red headed family. Maybe they were already friends, and were just meeting back from after the summer. His musings were interrupted by Hermione's voice,

"Have you seen a toad? Neville here's lost one."

The red headed boy just shook his head and said "No."

Hermione introduced herself and asked for theirs in her forward manner. The red haired boy said, "Ron Weasley" whilst the black haired said,

"I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

What was it with the continuous use of a bond line? Neville used it and so did Harry- Potter! Oh great, thought Tyr, I hope he doesn't clue me in and decide to kill me at Hogwarts. Disaster! Neville had already introduced himself and seemed to know Ron so Tyr said his bit. Ron just nodded at him and then asked,

"What are you wearing? It looks like a robe."

Hermione's eyes flicked briefly at the hoodie and said,

"It's known as a hoodie. It's a top most Muggles wear."

Tyr flinched at the word Muggle, he disliked the word, why didn't they just use non magical. Hermione misinterpreted the flinch and an in a bout of outrage began to tell him off. He interrupted her mid sequence,

"You misunderstand. I don't like the word Muggle. I think it can be derogatory. I prefer the term _non-magical_. It's more accurate and doesn't sound so demeaning."

Hermione shut her mouth and apologised quickly feeling a little embarrassed. Neville broke the tension by saying,

"It was nice talking to you, but we need to still find my toad."

They left the compartment, making sure to shut the door and went on. When it came to the last two compartments, Tyr said that he needed the loo. The last one they saw was back by Harry's compartment so they went continued the search while he doubled back. He was about to get there when he heard the familiar drawl of the blond haired brat called Draco.

Sure enough, the famous line of introduction was used,

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

A snicker came from within and as Tyr reached the compartment, he saw Draco flanked by two larger boys. Before Draco could lay it into either of the other boys, he called out loudly in a chirpy London accent,

"So we meet again. Fancy bumping into you."

Draco turned on the spot and saw Tyr, and promptly left. Tyr walked into the doorframe, still turned towards Draco and called out,

"Unbecoming, ain't it, for someone of your oh so superior stature to be making a nuisance of yourself so soon."

He turned into the compartment to see Ron gaping at him and Harry grinning. He gave a smile back and asked,

"Was he bothering you two at all?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "he was being a right prat."

Tyr nodded and said goodbye abruptly, he really needed to use the loo. As soon as he got out, he saw Hermione and Neville outside; both were already changed into their robes and Hermione looked worriedly at him. Neville must have told him about Tyr. She said,

"What if you're not a wizard?"

Tyr just grinned and said,

"Don't worry, I am, I'm sure. I suppose I should get changed."

Hermione still looked worried whilst Neville was just chuckling, he figured that Tyr was just going to do it and see what happens. From what Tyr told Neville about himself, he was used to being alone. This was a step up in his life. Tyr reached his compartment and got changed. He felt ridiculous; it was big and baggy like wearing a giant blanket with billowy sleeves. He still wore the hoodie underneath, just in case things went pear shaped.

He spent the rest of the journey chatting with Hermione and Neville about Hogwarts and magic, getting into a fierce debate over the use of magic compared to non-magical methods. Ironically, Hermione was mediating between Tyr and Neville. Neville thought that everything could get done with magic whilst Tyr argued that while magic had its uses, it didn't need to be used all the time. Hermione agreed with Tyr but also pointed out that it was easier to use magic. Tyr simply said that just because it was easier to use magic didn't make it the better thing to do. The debate ended when they agreed to disagree and that they didn't know much about magic anyway.

The train eventually stopped and they had arrived. They got out of the train and collected on the platform. The large man that had been with Harry in Diagon Alley was waiting for them holding a large lantern in his hand. He called out for first years to follow and lead the way to a flotilla of boats. They all got into groups and Tyr found himself with Hermione, Neville and a girl called Millicent Bulstrode, who had particularly masculine features. Hermione and Neville were quite intimidated by her but Tyr just extended a hand with a smile and she took it, nervously smiling back.

After that introduction, Hermione and Neville seemed to warm up to her, both girls ending up talking about cats and the different breeds as well as training techniques. Neville seemed content to just listen, though was startled when either would ask him for his opinion about different cats. Eventually all talk of cats stopped when they noticed the castle. It was a large castle, brightly lit and impressive. Tyr wondered how such a thing was a school, it was a mighty fortress with battlements and buttresses, he shuddered a bit. It could easily become a prison…

He felt a hand on his back and turned to see Millicent looking at him with worry. Tyr just smiled back weakly, the prospects of getting discovered now looked very likely and his chances of survival were getting slimmer. He took a deep breath, and tried to relax, his paranoia went two ways. He could think that everyone was out to get him, but they might not and he would just draw unwanted suspicion towards himself. That thought somehow calmed him; it was going to be alright. The boats beached and Tyr noticed Trevor and nudged to Neville pointing. Neville quickly reached and caught him before walking back to their little group.

Tyr saw that they were at the entrance, a large iron door. The big man promptly asked if everyone was there, even enquiring about Trevor to Neville before knocking three times on the door.

The door opened to reveal an older woman in a long green robe. She wore a tall witches hat and carried a severe expression. She dismissed the big man (whose name was apparently Hagrid) before taking them through the entrance hall and into a smaller alcove. Small wasn't really the word for it, things were in grandiose proportion here. She started explaining about the houses and the points system whilst giving the impression of stern intimidation. Tyr knew not to cross her, and wondered what side she was on, if any. After giving a final jibe about appearances she left to probably inform the rest of the school of the arrival of first years. Neville looked terrified already, and Hermione and Millicent were discussing how the Sorting worked. Tyr knew it was something to do with a hat, maybe you had to do something with it, like juggle it and then they knew what to do with you. It sounded rather silly when he thought about it. More musings from his peers told him that they hadn't got a clue, Ron even mentioned fighting a troll.

There was a gasp to the right and everyone turned to see the pale shades of ghosts floating through the walls. They were in an odd discussion about some Peeves fellow. They seemed to notice the first years, but Tyr wondered how they could just notice them, maybe it was a ploy at benevolence. He didn't like the way the one with bloodstains was eying him speculatively. Before any further drama or fake misconceptions could be uttered, the green robed woman appeared again and informed them to come with her.

Following her, the grand doors opened and revealed a massive hall. Four large long tables ran across it, parallel to each other and the line of them come through the middle two tables. Curious looks and appraising gazes came at them from all sides, Tyr felt incredibly claustrophobic. In his head he was trying not to think to disappear, he needed to see this through to the end. Each of the tables had a different banner in green, blue, yellow and red with a different animal on each one. Ahead of them was a high table filled with adults, probably staff, and in the centre on a golden throne was a white bearded wizard with purple robes and were there stars sewn in? Probably the worst sort of walking fashion statement. Wait, Ollivander mentioned that the headmaster of Hogwarts was Albus Dumbledore who was also the leader of the Light. Shit. Tyr made sure not to keep eye contact with the man. Dangerous things became of the child who attracted the attention of the headmaster. Looking up, Tyr noticed that the ceiling was obscured behind a stellar night sky. Some sort of spell to mimic the sky outside on the inside, but it also seemed too accommodating. As if to make Tyr stay indoors more, not leave, because the night sky was already there. The hall was lit with a thousand or more floating candles. How on Earth the candles didn't drip wax everywhere was incredible, unless- oh wait, of course there would be some sort of spell. He almost clicked his tongue in annoyance.

They finally reached the high table but in front of it was a stool. Upon the stool was a ragged old hat, one of those pointed ones, all black and worn. It was probably the hat of some famous wizard who invented dragons. Tyr wondered why he was being so cynical, there was no reason to get hostile afterall he was here to learn magic. As they waited, most of his peers in awe at the hall and the casual display of magic, the hat opened it's mouth (could a hat have a mouth?) and began to sing.

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can top them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see-_

Tyr thought ominously about this bit. Maybe the hat could keep his secret, he had no other choice if he wanted to stay. Or the hat was simply boasting.

_-So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong to Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong to Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin,_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

A burst of applause came from the hall as the hat finished it's song. It bowed to each table before becoming still. Tyr realised you just put it on, it rifled through your head for what seemed to fit the categories and put you on your table, right among your new family, so to speak. It was a nice environment for those of like mind, but eventually a person would want to be with others of different mind. In that regard it would be hard for someone to make friends with other houses. He had also noticed that the Gryffindors and Slytherins were glaring at each other, if they hated each other then they would do as families did and convince the other that that family was evil. It was a childish setting a la Romeo and Juliet, which his mother had read to them both once.

The green robed woman then said that she would call out their names, and they would sit on the stool to be sorted before going to their individual houses. Tyr decided to wing it; he was in the thick of it all now. Even so, he sought out a space to disappear from, or better yet to just access the Corridor from. Hannah Abbot went into Hufflepuff; Susan Bones went there as well with Terry Boot going into Ravenclaw. Mandy Brocklehurst followed Boot before Lavender Brown became the first Gryffindor. Millicent Bulstrode was called next and Tyr gave her a pat on the arm as she went forward; she got sorted into Slytherin. Tyr noticed that only Slytherins' cheered for Slytherins. No one else from any other house did, was the house segregation that bad? Tyr decided to still make it a point to remain friends with Millicent, she wasn't bad just a little quiet. Then,

"Everell, Tyr!"

As he walked up, he caught a hint of confusion on the green robed woman's face. She hadn't seen him before but he ignored it and sat on the stool, the hat placed over his head. Showtime.

He heard silence in the hall and then a small voice spoke in his ear,

'Interesting. There hasn't been one of the Grey here since Daniel Evenstar. He was your father? Oh that's very interesting. I shall keep your secret from the staff; each sorting is in close confidence. Let's see what we have here, you have many secrets and protect them closely, a very wise precaution indeed. You have suspicions of possible suspects for your family's murder; oh you could be a brilliant Slytherin, but wait. No, not in Slytherin, you have intelligence. Quick witted and subject to large trains of thought. Very analytical, yes I see, you're definitely RAVENCLAW!"

He got off the stool and moved to the table, sitting next to Terry Boot and saw Millicent in front of him. He nodded to her with a grin and she gave a small smile back. Hermione went into Gryffindor as well as Neville; he gave a smile and a nod to both across the Hufflepuff table. They returned the gesture. Draco Malfoy went immediately into Slytherin. Both Harry Potter and Ron Weasley went into Gryffindor, though Harry's sorting had taken a while. Maybe the hat had reached indecision. Who knew? After the Sorting ended, with Zabini, Blaise going into Slytherin, Dumbledore got up with a beaming face and open arms. He welcomed everyone and then gave his random words of the day: Nitwit, blubber, oddment and tweak. After that he gave his thanks and everyone cheered and applauded. Tyr frowned, the old man must be using a façade if he was leader of the Light and he didn't trust the man an ounce. Oddment… was that a slur against Ravenclaw? Blubber for Hufflepuff, nitwit for Gryffindor and Tweak for Slytherin. He shook his head of his musings and noticed the whole table was covered in food.

They all tucked in, the odd conversation perking up before Terry Boot nudged Tyr and asked him. Tyr repeated the same story he told Neville and laughed at Terry's expression. He looked as dumbfounded as Neville had and the other Ravenclaws around him were just as gobsmacked. Perhaps it wasn't a Ravenclaw thing to do. 'Sod it' thought Tyr; he wasn't going to conform to his house just because the majority did so. After all the chatting was done and Tyr had finished eating his food, consuming many a Yorkshire pudding puddled with gravy, he turned to the high table. There was Dumbledore, who was to be distanced from at all costs, and the green robed woman who was apparently called Professor McGonagall. There were Professors' Sinastra who taught Astronomy, Snape who taught Potions, Quirrel who taught Defence against the Dark Arts, Sprout who taught Herbology and Flitwick who taught Charms and was their Head of House.

After desert and pudding was all done, most people groaning from the amount of food eaten, Dumbledore got to his feet again and spoke to the now silent hall,

"First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

At this last bit, Tyr instantly thought, 'It's a trap!' and found himself struggling to contain his laughter. His dad had made him watch the Star Wars Trilogy and that line always made him laugh. He went to listen to catch the last of Dumbledore's speech,

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song! Everyone pick their favourite tune and off we go!"

A mass chorus of different pitches in a large echoing hall singing a song at different tempos and volumes was almost similar to torture via nails on the blackboard. And yet, even then, you could still make out the words through the carcophany to hear,

'_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot."_

Tyr smiled, inwardly thinking this would be a wonderful drinking song, get it wrong and have to drink a shot. He shook his head, he'd spent too much time with Francois and Pietr on many an evening. It wasn't appropriate for an eleven year old to think about.

The mass sound finished with a slow funeral style march sung by Ron's brothers. Once they had done there was much rejoicing, and then Dumbledore sent them to bed. They followed the Ravenclaw prefects up the stairs that moved around (that would get annoying fairly soon) and came across a brass knocker in the shape of a raven on a door. The knocker than asked,

"What get's wetter the more it dries?"

One of the prefects replied,

"A towel."

The door opened and they walked through into a large room with a fire place and a few settees. It was decorated in blue and there were raven decorations everywhere. The girls went into one dormitory and the boys in the other. Tyr saw his luggage was already there and while he felt exhausted, Tyr still went and changed into his pyjamas, placing his robes in his trunk neatly and fell into deep sleep.

When he woke the next day, he was in for a nice surprise.


End file.
